Chapter eight: Time to talk

Corporal Harry Foreman slowly regained consciousness. He partially opened his eyes to see a wooden ceiling above him, one that didn't look very familiar…

Once that last part was finally processed, his eyes flew fully open and he sat up in the bed he was lying in, breathing heavily as he did so. What happened yesterday? How'd he get here? Where is here, anyway? Did someone take him to their home after finding him in the base? Where is general Boone?

His stomach sank. Boone, he thought as he remembered his fight with the old man. Was he alright? Did he drink himself to death? Please be alive…

The corporal stepped out of the bed and examined the house he was in. It consisted of one room and was mostly made of wood, though the lower parts seemed more like stone. Aside from the bed he was lying in when he woke up, there weren't a lot of things in it other than two chairs, a small table, some kind of crafting bench and an old, primitive oven.

It was then that Harry remembered he was still wearing his soldier gear. He had been recognized as a guard of public order by the people: someone who kept things safe and calm. He didn't need to use it a lot after Cody's attack, however, given how quiet it had been.

There was one problem, though: he was wearing his uniform, but the rifle and sidearm he had with him were gone. I guess that whoever helped me took it. Can't say I blame them, but I really need my weapons back. Surely, the people here will understand.

Then, he heard the familiar sound of a door opening behind him. He whirled around to see a girl with red/brown hair with pigtails. She had dark green eyes and wore a dark brown robe. In her arms she carried a stack of wooden branches, likely for the oven. Her green eyes looked at him with a relieved expression. Before Harry could say anything, she spoke.

"Thank goodness you're awake."

She walked towards him after putting the wood she had in her hands on the table next to the door.

"Are you all right?" she asked, visibly still worried.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," the corporal replied. "Just confused. Where am I?"

The girl smiled. "You're in the village Koïtia, stranger. You and your friend inexplicably appeared next to my house, both of you were unconscious. You weren't injured, but the other man had a large amount of a substance in his blood, deteriorating his health."

This scared the young man. This substance… alcohol! The general crossed the line with his booze and now…

"Is he going to make it?" Harry worriedly asked. The girl gave him a reassuring look.

"He is. Do not worry." Upon hearing that, the corporal let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "We need to keep him asleep for now, however, if we are to help his body recover from the damage it has suffered," she continued. "With what we have, it will take a day at most. Until then…" she sat on one of the chairs and signaled to him to take a seat as well. "…Let's talk!"

The following hours they spent talking and explaining the situations their worlds found themselves in. Harry still had trouble believing that he was transported to a completely different place – one in a whole other world. He believed his world was the only one in existence, but apparently not. He also learned about some kind of evil native race called the 'mobs', which looked human but were something completely different.

One of the most confusing things about the new world was that there were plenty of villages, but there were no countries. Their technology is also extremely primitive, and, according to the girl, they used magic. Harry was a little sceptic about that, but chose to keep his mouth shut for now.

The girl – Rachel was her name – was mesmerized when he told her about the war, their technology and the fact that magic was dismissed as a myth (he chose his words a bit carefully on that one, not wanting to offend her) and she seemed completely baffled – and sympathetic – when he told her about Cody's suicide mission that had helped them end the war. He also told her how it affected Scott, explaining how the substance had entered his blood in the process.

"We use a similar substance for some of our drinks," she said. "We are always cautious not to drink too much, as we have seen its effects before."

"We usually do the same," Harry explained. "But some people just take too much on purpose when they go through a time like this."

There was a long silence. Rachel took this time to go into deep thought about these 'otherworldly' people. With their weapons and great skill, they may be able to help us get rid of those mobs once and for all, she thought. I just hope I will be able to convince him to do so.

She looked back at Harry. He seemed like a good person so far. He was a little shy, but if he really was a warrior…

"Corporal?" she asked. This ripped the man in question out of his own thoughts and he looked at her.

"Call me Harry," he replied.

"Harry… perhaps you are able to help us," she said. The male raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean? Help you how?" he asked.

"Well… only if you are willing, of course," the girl continued. "You are a warrior, are you not?" Harry nodded. "Then, with your abilities and weapons, are you willing to help us defeat the mobs?"

Harry sort of saw this one coming. I mean, like, I'm a soldier with super advanced stuff and their world is plagued with a bunch of evil… things. It was only logical if she asked.

He looked her in her eyes, which were visibly nervous for the answer.

"I'll do what I can, but if general Boone will work with me, it'll go a lot better. He's one of the best we have, and can always come up with a tactic. I'll try to convince him," the corporal responded. The nervousness in Rachel's eyes turned into pure joy and relief as a smile made its way onto her face. She stood up, walked around the table and unexpectedly gave Harry a hug.

"Thank you, Harry. You do not know how much this means to me – to Koïtia," she said.

Harry blushed a bit.

"I-I'm glad to help however I can," he responded.